


My Life is a Nightmare

by BatchSan



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Confusion, Humanstuck, M/M, Pseudo-Incest, Slash, Teen Angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-24
Updated: 2013-07-18
Packaged: 2017-12-16 01:25:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/856196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BatchSan/pseuds/BatchSan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Dave is so ridiculous and fucking stupid.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>And I do not have a fucking thing for Dave Strider, so shut your fuckass piehold!</i>
</p><p> </p><p>(Dave and Karkat are stepbrothers, or something like that – nothing could possibly go wrong with this scenario.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My first slash-only Homestuck fic. Started this as a gift for someone but I forgot who and I since I got attached to it, here we are! (And I really like DaveKat, so it's win for me either way.)
> 
> Gonna aim for two or three chapters for this fic, not sure yet. / dashes off with a loud PCHOOO /

He thinks he's so fucking cool with his stupid shades and poker face all the gogdamn time, even at night, and indoors. Fuck him, that dumb sack of coolkid shit. He's not shit, he’s beyond it -- a fucking splash of diarrhea in the dark corner of an abandoned factory. 

Dave is so ridiculous and fucking stupid.

And I do not have a fucking thing for Dave Strider, so shut your fuckass piehold!

"Yo Vantas, you looking forward to parent/teacher night tomorrow?" he asks, leaning back all cool-like in his chair.

"Yeah, fucking thrilled to have my mom come and waste her time with this dickweed," I grumble, hitching my thumb at our tool teacher Mr. Roberts. "What does it matter to you?"

"Nah, nothing. Just asking."

Dave's about as easy to read as a book that's being bashed into your head during an eighty miles per hour head-on car collision. You can kind of get a glimpse of what he's thinking, but only for a brief second, and it's never anything cool. At least not to me.

"Why do you care?" I try again, lugging my schoolbag up on my shoulder when the final bell rings.

"Like I said, it's nothing. Just asking a question. It's a thing I can do, unless they make you feel uncomfortable? 'Cause then I can just keep my mouth shut like a witness protection dude hiding from the mob after seeing them chop up some poor pony to hock in some other dude's bed."

"Fuck my life. Seriously, Strider, just forget I even asked anything and I'll forget you asked anything and we'll be all fair and fucking square."

"Cool."

We step out into the cold November afternoon and Strider pops in his earbuds, nodded a goodbye to some kids nearby, and heads off toward home. Pulling my scarf up over my face and huddling deeper into my coat, I hurry after him because the cherry on my life is that Dave Strider is my stepbrother, and technically my stepuncle too. 

Yeah, you heard right.

My mom met his brother like two years back, dated forever, and got hitched just this summer just to shit on my life in the worst way possible.

Gog fucking dammit, at least this is my senior year of high school. This time next year I'll be in a college as far as fucking possible from that dipshit. Small blessing to behold! 

I refuse to walk side by side with him, but even so, he either slows his pace to fall behind where I'm lagging or speeds up to catch up with me. He does it without even looking at me which pisses me off more than the fact that he walks with me to begin with. Once we get past the doors of our apartment building, I race up the stairs while he takes a cool stroll over to the elevators. Yeah, fuck his lazy ass. Running up nine flights of stairs is way healthier for you than standing in some claustrophobic death trap.

A claustrophobic death trap that has one stupid Strider in it. Why would I want to be in a place like that? Me, Strider, and nowhere to go. Fuck that shit so hard.

So hard.

Uh… Anyway.

Athleticism is not my forte, to be honest. My chest is burning by the time I’ve hit the fourth floor of the building and my legs are threatening to quit on me by the next floor. Dave’s already unlocking the door to our apartment when I make it to the ninth floor, panting far more heavily than I would like him to see. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything, just holds the door open and taps his foot to some beat from his headphones.

Shitstain.

I brush by him without a word and storm directly to my room where I kick the door closed and throw myself face first down on my bed, coat and boots still on. There’s a knock on my door not even five minutes later.

“Mom left tunafish sandwiches for us in the fridge,” Dave calls even though I don’t answer. “Bro left some cookies in the hallway closet too.”

“Yeah, whatever,” I growl, picking up my face but refusing to move.

His footsteps fade off to another part of the apartment and my stomach grumbles. Fuck, fine.

Kicking off my boots, I dump my coat on my computer chair, flipping my computer on before reluctantly leaving my room in search of food. The cookies Dave mentioned are sitting on the kitchen counter in a Christmas tin even though Christmas is over a month away. Beside it is a note from his brother:

_Working late. Don’t wreck the house or you’ll get a smuppet in your stocking. Love you both._

_Daddy Dirk_

Daddy Dirk? 

Holy shit, could the Striders be anymore fucking weird as shit? Even after knowing the guy for two years, I just can’t get used to the idea of him as my father. Pretty sure I’ve never even referred to him as my stepfather either even though he is. He’ll always be Dave’s brother or just Dirk and that’s all there is to say on the matter.

Still, his cookies are good. Home-baked, chocolate chip with peanut butter – the man knows how to appease my sweet tooth. I’ve chomped down five of them before I remember the sandwiches Dave mentioned. On the fridge is a note from MY mom and it’s a lot shorter and easier to stomach than Dirk’s note:

_I’m working overtime tonight. Sandwiches are in the fridge._

_XOXO_

Yeah, you see that’s a perfectly reasonable note! Not weird and gets straight to the point. The Striders could learn something from us if they were to try. Plus, there’s no mention of inappropriate looking smuppets – what the hell is up with Dirk and those things? It’s like he runs a fetish site with them or something because those fuckers have evaded most of the apartment. Pretty sure they would be in my room too if I didn’t put my foot down about it. 

Glancing at the three smuppets looking down at me from atop of the fridge, I pull open the fridge to find two sandwiches sitting neatly on a plate, ignoring the smuppet on the shelf above. Pretty sure there was at least two for both me and Dave so he probably already took his share. And if he didn’t, fuck him. Snooze you lose, loser. Claiming the plate, I grab the carton of milk too before closing the door. Setting the plate on the counter, I grab a cup from the cupboard and pour a refreshing cup of milk to wash down the cookies.

Only it’s apple juice that fills the red plastic cup.

A glance at the carton in my hand confirms that, yes, this carton is for milk, not fucking apple juice. Fuckass Striders!

It takes a lot to restrain myself from storming into Dave’s room and punching him in the nose like he fucking deserves. Instead, I dump the whole cup into the sink along with the rest of the juice in the carton, take my sandwiches and the rest of the cookies because that prick doesn’t deserve anymore after this, and disappear into my room with a slam.

Stupid prick is probably laughing up a storm in his room. Oh shit Karkat got pranked AGAIN like the fucking tool he is, yeah that’s rich stuff right there. Probably going to use it in one of his raps or some shit, too. Bastard.

Goddamn, I really fucking hate him!

Shoving my coat off my computer chair, I sit and flick the mouse to shoo away my beach crab screensaver. Opening up Pesterchum, I think of ranting to Kanaya when I see a blinking – oh fuck no. This fucker is not pestering me after pranking my shit. 

**turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering  carcinoGeneticist [CG]**

TG: karkat  
TG: karkat  
TG: karkat  
TG: sounds a bit like the beginning of a poem or something  
TG: karkat karkat karkat  
TG: ben savage peed in your apple juice  
TG: drop that shit  
TG: dont drink the pee  
TG: karkat karkat karkat  
TG: you drank the pee  
TG: man thats a shitty poem  
TG: im sorry theres now a record of it  
TG: maybe ill change it into a rap  
TG: replace karkat with something ironic like toilet  
TG: but shit who gives a toilet apple juice?  
CG: HOLY FUCK.  
CG: STOP. JUST FUCKING STOP!  
TG: oh there you are  
TG: i was beginning to worry you finally aneurysmed over some random little shit that wasnt actually that big of a problem  
TG: like the condensation on a cup or something  
CG: FUCK YOU STRIDER.  
CG: FUCK YOUR STUPID FACE.  
CG: WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU PESTERING ME?  
CG: WANT TO MOCK ME FOR FALLING FOR YOUR STUPID PRANK?  
CG: GET YOUR JOLLIES OFF ON MY MISERY?  
CG: WELL GO FUCK YOURSELF SIDEWAYS YOU FUCKFACEGRUB.  
TG: grub?  
TG: of all the things you could call me you pick grub  
TG: okay i guess we can roll with that  
TG: i didnt pull any pranks on you by the way  
TG: dont know what you got your panties in a bunch about this time actually  
TG: wanna talk about it  
TG: ill be the psychologist to your insanity  
TG: shit yeah  
TG: gonna use that line in a rap for sure  
CG: DON’T ACT LIKE YOU DON’T KNOW ABOUT THE APPLE JUICE IN THE MILK CARTON!  
TG: bro  
TG: that was bro  
TG: hes done that since forever  
TG: do you not drink milk around here  
TG: hes been doing it here since he married mom  
CG: MY MOM.  
CG: AND LET’S FILE THAT UNDER SHIT I DON’T NEED TO BE REMINDED OF OVER AND OVER, OR REALLY EVER AGAIN.  
TG: still having a hard time with the stepdad biz?  
CG: NO.  
CG: I’M HAVING A HARD TIME WITH HAVING A DICKWEED FOR A STEPBROTHER.  
CG: YOU. I’M HAVING A HARD TIME WITH YOU.  
TG: i see  
TG: i was gonna ask if you wanted to watch a movie with me or something but i guess that would be a no  
TG: ill just be chill here in my room then  
CG: DAVE WAIT.   
TG: nah its chill  
TG: no hard feelings or nothing  
TG: ill let you get back to your normal screaming fits over nothing  
TG: later

**turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering  carcinoGeneticist [CG]**

Okay, now I feel like a complete douchebag asshole. Perfect. 

I lean back and wait to see if Dave comes back on but after a half hour, he doesn’t appear again. The food has gone untouched in this time, though a part of me just wants to shove it all into my face until I puke because I’m a useless piece of shit that seems to manage to fuck up everything. I’m big enough to know I upset Dave, and he’s an idiot that won’t admit ever that I hurt him. 

Sighing, I give up the waiting game and leave my room, heading down the hall to Dave’s room. It’s quiet, but that’s not a big surprise. He usually keeps his headphones on, how he hasn’t gone deaf from them is a fucking mystery. I lift a hand to the wooden door and knock sharply twice. Nothing. I try again, louder. Still nothing. Guilt is now breathing hot and heavy on the back of my neck, making me uneasy with its intimacy. Swatting at the nothing not behind me, I try the doorknob and hold my breath when it gives, turning easily in my hand. Dave’s lying on his bed, arm draped over his eyes, and chest rising softly in sleep. His shades are folded up neatly within reach of his other hand and I can’t shake the feeling he cried himself to sleep, which is dumb. Dave’s seventeen and smarter than to take the bullshit that comes flying out of my mouth to heart.

Right?

It doesn’t feel right to leave without saying anything though, but I can’t help but fidget at his bedside in uncertainty and embarrassment. 

“I didn’t mean it,” I finally say, softly.

With that, I turn and leave quickly and quietly. Yeah, it was pointless to apologize to a sleeping person but it was better than feeling like shit. Granted, I still feel like shit, but I’ll just apologize properly later when he’s awake.

*

Thanksgiving comes and goes.

Dirk uses one of his swords to slice up the turkey. Mom laughs, but I don’t find much amusement in having turkey served to me from the tip of a questionably clean, shitty cosplay sword. 

Dave makes a shitty rap about gravy that his brother nods along to like a proud mother bird getting ready to regurgitate her food for her young.

Mom scolds me for eating too much pumpkin pie – behind her Dave smirks lightly but when she turns around he drops the smirk quick enough for me to almost believe I imagined it. Fucker, I’m not that stupid.

But later that night, while mom is giggling into her fourth cup of cider and I find myself squished on the couch between Dave and his brother’s super fucking creepy puppet pal, Lil Cal, while Dave’s brother is fiddling with his ancient VCR player so we can watch _It’s The Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown_ , something weird happens.

“Bro, this is stupid. We should be watching _A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving_ , not the Great Pumpkin one,” Dave says.

Dirk’s busy fiddling with the Audio Input plugs because the sound keeps flickering in and out. “It’s better this way,” is all he says in defense.

“It’s kind of dumb, ironic or not.”

“You just don’t understand yet. You will when you’re older.”

“Shit, that’s what all adults say,” Dave says, slouching back on the couch with enough force to jolt Lil Cal so he’s now leaning his head against my arm. “You guys plan to let us know when that is exactly or will the government contact me on my twenty-first birthday, slip me a file with the info and a strict order never to tell anyone ever, and then it’ll self-destruct before some inquisitive kid can come along and glean anything helpful out of it?”

Dirk shrugs and curses when the audio goes through but he loses the picture.

Me? I’m stock-still beside Dave, frozen to my seat in confusion and embarrassment and a shitload of other emotions that should not be an issue right that fucking moment. When Dave threw himself backward on the couch, his hand fell onto my thigh – pretty high up too, and he didn’t bother to remove it. How the fuck was I supposed to react to that? Flying off the handle would only draw attention to the fact I was blushing, the burn creeping up my neck and searing the tips of my ears.

I glanced over at my mother, but she was pouring herself another cup of cider and telling Dirk how she hadn’t seen _It’s The Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown_ since she was still living with her parents. Dirk’s smiling at her and telling her to look forward to watching _It’s the Easter Beagle, Charlie Brown_ on Christmas Eve as well. This earned a squeal and giggle from my mom and a soft smile from Dirk.

Dave, on the other hand, was as cool as a cucumber with his hand still on my thigh. I thought about swatting him away but I really didn’t want to draw attention to it. Plus, if he couldn’t get a rile out of me for it then Dave couldn’t get off to having fucked with me yet again. I was also trying not to be a major dick ever since that argument we had over Pesterchum. I hadn’t properly apologized to him yet either, so this was as close as he was going to get until I got my shit in order.

It wasn’t until the special started that his hand fell away and we watched it in silence.

But my heart couldn’t stop beating over the incident.

*

**grimAuxiliatrix [GA] began pestering  carcinoGenecist [CG]**

GA: Merry Greetings Karkat  
CG: MERRY GREETINGS TO YOU TOO.  
GA: How Have You Been Fairing As Of Late  
CG: LIKE MY LIFE SHOULD BE HIT BY A MACK TRUCK AND DRAGGED UNTIL IT’S NOTHING BUT A SMEAR OF BLOOD ON THE HIGHWAY.  
GA: Come Now Im Certain Youre Only Being Overly Dramatic As Per Usual  
CG: LAUGH IT UP MARYAM, BUT IT’S THE GODDAMN TRUTH.  
GA: I Wasnt Laughing  
GA: What Is It Thats Troubling You  
CG: DAVE.  
CG: THAT COCKLICKER IS RUINING MY LIFE IN THE WORST WAY POSSIBLE.  
GA: How So  
CG: NO, FUCK THIS. THIS IS STUPID.  
CG: I’M NOT GOING TO SAY ANYTHING BECAUSE IT IS LITERALLY THAT STUPID.  
GA: Come Now Weve Been Friends For Years  
GA: You Know I Only Wish To Help  
CG: YEAH, BUT YOUR HELP COMES WITH MEDDLING.  
CG: I DON’T NEED ANY FUCKING MEDDLING.  
CG: I DON’T EVEN WANT TO THINK ABOUT THIS FUCKED UP SITUATION, SO LET’S DROP IT AND TALK ABOUT ANYTHING THAT ISN’T KARKAT’S HORRIBLE LIFE.  
GA: Ignoring A Problem Will Not Make It Go Away  
CG: HOLY SHIT.  
CG; I’M TRYING TO BE CONSIDERATE AND HEAR SOMETHING ABOUT YOU AND YOU STILL WANT TO MEDDLE IN MY BUSINESS.  
CG: CAN I NOT BE MADE INTO A DICK FOR FIVE SECONDS? IS THAT TOO HARD TO ASK FOR?  
GA: Very Well  
GA: I Started Dating Rose  
CG: THAT STUCK UP BITCH WITH A BOOK ALWAYS SHOVED IN HER FACE?  
GA: Shes Not Stuck Up  
GA: Shes Simply A Misunderstood Loner  
CG: AND A BITCH.  
GA: Its Part Of Her Charm  
CG: SHIT, AND I THOUGHT I WAS THE FUCKED UP ONE.  
GA: Does That Mean Youre Willing To Speak Now About Your Issue  
CG: …  
CG: FINE, BUT ONLY IF YOU SWEAR ON YOUR BITCH OF A GIRLFRIEND’S LIFE THAT YOU WILL NOT MEDDLE IN MY PROBLEM NOR WILL YOU REPEAT A WORD OF ANYTHING I’M ABOUT TO TELL YOU TO ANYONE.  
GA: Thats A Harsh Condition But I Agree To Your Terms  
GA: I Will Not Meddle Nor Will I Repeat A Word Of What You Say  
CG: GOOD.  
CG: …  
CG: I THINK I’M BEGINNING TO HAVE FEELINGS.  
GA: Feelings  
GA: In Reference To  
CG: DAVE.  
GA: Your Stepbrother  
CG: WAS THAT A QUESTION?  
GA: Yes  
GA: Your Stepbrother?  
GA: Better  
CG: HOLY FUCK, CONFUSING, BUT OKAY, I GUESS.  
CG: YES, MY FUCKTARD STEPBROTHER.  
CG: FEEL FREE TO START CALLING ME THE MOST FUCKED UP AND DISGUSTING PERSON YOU’VE EVER KNOWN WHENEVER YOU WANT.  
GA: I Dont See What’s The Problem Overall  
GA: Is It That Hes A Male As Well  
GA: Or Is It Because Hes Only Very Recently Become Your Stepbrother And Barely Even That As Hes Your Stepfathers Brother  
CG: BOTH, I THINK.  
CG: MOSTLY THE STEPBROTHER/UNCLE THING.  
CG: THAT’S IMMORAL. I SHOULDN’T FEEL LIKE THIS FOR THAT PRICK.  
CG: I’M SUCH A SICK FUCK. SERIOUSLY SOMEONE NEEDS TO COME AND JUST PUT ME OUT OF MY MISERY BEFORE I EMBARRASS MYSELF EVEN WORSE THAN I CURRENTLY AM DOING ON MY OWN. LIKE HOLY SHIT, HOW HAVE I MADE IT THIS FAR IN LIFE EVEN?  
CG: UGH.  
GA: When Did You First Start Having Feelings For Dave  
GA: Romantic Ones I Mean  
CG: I DON’T EVEN KNOW.  
CG: MAYBE, SHORTLY AFTER FIRST MEETING HIM?  
CG: MOM HAD BEEN DATING DAVE’S BROTHER FOR THREE MONTHS AND SHE INVITED THEM OVER FOR DINNER ONE NIGHT. IT WAS THE FIRST TIME I MET DAVE.  
GA: And What Did You Think Of Him  
CG: HE WAS INSUFFERABLE PRICK WITH THE EMOTIONAL RANGE OF A TOASTER STRUDEL.  
GA: I Can See The Appeal Then  
CG: OH SHIT. SARCASM.  
CG: YES THAT’S EXACTLY WHAT I NEED RIGHT NOW MARYAM.  
CG: THANK YOU. I FEEL SO MUCH FUCKING BETTER NOW!  
GA: Sorry  
GA: Its An Unfortunate Side Effect Of Dating Rose  
CG: HEH, I CAN BELIEVE THAT ACTUALLY.  
CG: …  
CG: WHAT SHOULD I DO ABOUT DAVE?  
GA: Honestly  
GA: I Think You Should Confront Your Feelings  
GA: Or At Least Feel Him Out And See If He Garners A Similar Interest In You  
CG: THANKS, I GUESS.  
GA: Anytime Karkat

**carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased being pestered by  grimAuxiliatrix [GA]**

Shit, what I have just done? Talking to anyone about this was a bad idea. Kanaya was trustworthy enough not to breathe a word of it to anyone else, but still, now I was under the obligation to move forward with this. Ugh! 

STUPID. STUPID. STUPID!


	2. Chapter 2

Two days after Christmas, mom and Dirk headed back to work, and with school out for a couple more days that left me alone in the apartment with Dave. There was a nasty snowstorm a day later, so when mom and Dirk left that day, slaves to their trades, there was no real escape for Dave or myself. I spent the morning curled up under my comforter, actually doing some of my vacation homework to avoid having to leave the warmth of my bed. Eventually, my stomach grumbled for lunch and I reluctantly got up, pulled on a hoodie, and ducked out to the kitchen. Dave’s nowhere to be seen but Lil Cal is sitting crossed-legged atop of the fridge. Fucking creepy bastard. It wasn’t there when I served myself Lucky Charms for breakfast so Dave must have set him up there to freak me out on purpose. Stupid prick.

Unfortunately, it works well enough to make me avoid the fridge and head instead to the small pantry on the other side of the kitchen. There’s a fuckton of ramen sitting on the shelves and I have to literally dig to find some canned chicken noodle soup. There also happens to be some Pop-Tarts on the shelf beneath it so I nab two pouches, slip one into the pocket of my hoodie, and take the other with the can of soup to the counter. 

The microwave is whirring away in no time with my soup and I lean against the counter to eat a Pop-Tart from the pouch in my hand while I wait the two minutes for the soup to be either hot or scorching. It takes exactly fifteen seconds for me to realize that Lil Cal has moved from atop the fridge and is now sitting at the small kitchen table like he’s waiting to be served his lunch. 

I’m going to kill, Dave, I swear to GOG.

“Stop fucking around you cockmongering dickwad!” I growl.

Trying to ignore both Dave’s stupidity and Lil Cal, I turn to the microwave to watch my soup finish heating up. Lil Cal’s presence rattles me enough to pocket the rest of the Pop-Tart even though I really want it now. The sooner I get out of this shithole, the better. Finally it beeps, and I retrieve the bowl, not caring if the soup is hot enough or what. I just snag a spoon, turn, and nearly drop the bowl of soup onto myself. Lil Cal is sitting on the small, poor excuse for a kitchen island that is more of a waste of floor space than actual help. The doll is just sitting there, staring at me as if he KNOWS EVERYTHING.

Fuck this shit so fucking hard.

I don’t spare him another glance as I hoof it out of there and back to the safety of my room. Since my hands are full, I kick the door closed before setting the bowl down on my desk.

“You dick licking, ass chafing, dickhole!” I scream at the closed door as if that would effectively scare the shit out of him.

“You often scream at doors for no reason whatsoever?” 

Jumping, I whirl around and find Dave peering at me over the top of his shades. The prick is sitting on the edge of my bed, flipping through my school notebook. It probably takes me less than two seconds to go from being scared shitless to flying blindly in rage across the room in an attempt to grab my notebook away from the bastard. Dave leans back on the bed, avoiding my first snatch. He rolls off to the floor when I attempt to leap on him and make another grab for it. We’ve never really gotten into a fight before, not a physical one anyway, so I’m a little surprised by his speed and limberness. Two minutes later, I’m panting on the floor while Dave reclines easily on my computer chair, flipping his way through my book.

“I wasn’t sure what the homework for Spanish was so I thought I’d look it up in your notebook, but shit Vantas, I wasn’t expecting to find your artwork all over the book,” Dave says, holding the book up so I can see several dicks drawn on a page. “Something you wanna share with the class, bro?”

I find the strength to stand quickly and finally snatch the book from Dave’s hands, hugging it close to my chest in protection. I didn’t care that he found my dumb dick drawings, class is boring and it helps to pass the time. But I can’t see his eyes and his face is as stoic as it always it is which makes it frustrating to gauge what he really thinks about it; about me.

Not that I care what he thinks about me, but… No, fuck this guy.

“Just leave me the fuck alone!” I scream at him, turning away. “Get the fuck out of my room!”

There’s a heavy silence, deafeningly so. I’m pissed at how badly I want to scream and cry right now. Disgusted with myself for it. All I want is the stupid prick to leave me alone so I can stuff my face and watch _He’s Just Not That Into You_ or _She’s All That_ or even one of the frou-frou romantic foreign films Kanaya’s gifted me over the years, which I tell her I abhor with my every living cell, but smile a little too wide when I open my presents to find one.

There’s pressure against my back and it takes a moment to realize Dave’s hugging me. His breath is warm against the back of my neck, his arms strong but comforting around my body, and his scent – knock-off Axe and strawberry hair conditioner, so fucking weird – sends a jolt through my chest. A part of me wants to sink into all of it, let it over take me like in one my rom-coms, but that’s too corny and stupid for real life.

Instead, I jerk away, hugging my notebook tighter as I yell at Dave to seriously get the fuck out right now or so help him, I was going to drive a hammer through his record collection. Silence is my only answer and thinking he’s still there, mocking me or something, I turn around to really let him have an earful of colorful vocabulary, but he’s gone. The door’s closed and it’s like he wasn’t ever even in there, but I know he was because I can still smell his dumb Axe spray on my hoodie.

I wasn’t expecting to actually feel a little crushed that he left, but it was what I wanted. I didn’t need Dave fucking around in my life or in my head, and definitely not in my heart. It was wrong and fucked up and… Fuck, I don’t even know, but it was a bad thing -- that’s a fact.

The soup is cold and the Pop-Tarts in my pockets are crushed up pretty bad, but I shove it all down my throat and pretend not to notice the stray tear or two, or several even, that roll down my face in the process.

*

We go back to school a couple of days later, and for once, Dave doesn’t torment me by walking beside me the whole way. Actually, aside from watching him snag some toast and apple juice from the kitchen for all of a minute and a half, I don’t see Dave again until our third period Spanish class together. Dumb fuck intrudes on my privacy and makes ME feel like shit for throwing him out, un-fucking real.

Except, I’m not dumb enough to really believe that’s what Dave’s avoidance of me was about. I actually got the feeling he was giving me space on purpose. Like, giving me time to sort my shit out, which was further proof of his glaring stupidity. There wasn’t anything I needed to sort out. I was fine. Everything was in check in my head, mostly.

“You seem rather resigned today,” Kanaya says at lunch. “Perhaps it was because of the vacation, but little to nothing tends to tide your mood this dramatically. Does this have anything to do with Dave?”

My head shoots up, whipping around to make sure he isn’t anywhere nearby. 

“Don’t say his name too fucking loud or he might show up!” I hiss at her.

She gives me a look of impatience from across the lunch table.

“What?”

“That is something I would like to know myself,” she says. “Did something occur between you two?”

“No! Fuck! Stop being all meddlesome and shit!”

I take a large bite out of the gross school pizza to help stave off having to answer Kanaya’s questioning. As I’m chewing, she remains staring at me in that unnerving way I hate because it means she’s trying to crack me, and she usually does with that look. The saving grace this time around is that Rose approaches the table and slips onto the bench beside Kanaya. Kanaya shoots me an ‘I’ll-Get-It-Out-Of-You-Sooner-Or-Later’ glare and turns to her girlfriend, blushing when Rose taps a kiss against her lips. I look away, not really feeling in the mood to see any cutesy couple crap in the midst of my own inner tumultuous woes and brooding.

“Hello, Karkat,” Rose says. 

Shit, now I have to make nice because she’s Kanaya’s girlfriend and I don’t want to piss off Kanaya by being a dick to Rose, no matter how easy it would be in my current mood.

“Hello,” I grumble.

I take another bite of food to avoid having to say anything else to her, but Rose apparently doesn’t know when to take a hint, or purposely chooses to avoid the hint. Which I honestly think is what she’s doing when she continues to speak to me.

“How is your relationship going with Dave?”

I choke on the food in my mouth, turning away to hack and cough it back out of my mouth. There’s a bunch of ‘ew’s from the immediate area but I flip the bird as I wipe my mouth and throw a napkin over the glob of half chewed food now sitting on the floor.

“YOU TOLD HER?” I finally manage to say to Kanaya, anger burning hot as the fucking sun beneath my skin.

“I sought her counsel on the matter,” Kanaya replies as though it wasn’t a big deal. “In your honor, I swore her to privacy.”

“Seriously, I got enough shit to deal with and you go and pull this bullshit under my nose like haha-fuck-you-Karkat. Does anyone respect the code of privacy anymore? I mean, how the hell am I supposed to trust someone with such conflicting and fucked up information like my crush on—“

“Karkat!” Kanaya says loudly, overpowering my voice.

Kanaya is not the type to yell unless extremely pissed off, but there’s a look of warning in her eyes that screams for me to just shut the fuck up. I open my mouth to argue with her but it kind of hits me how I almost blurted out that I had a fucking thing for my stepbrother in a large public area like the school cafeteria. That would have won all the awards for all the dipshit things ever done by anyone ever and my face blazes at the realization. I duck down into my seat and mumble a thank you I hope she can hear over the talking of others in the room.

“We can speak about this in a more private locale,” Rose suggests. “Say the library during free period or—“

“Let me stop you right there, Lalonde,” I growl, despite myself. “I don’t need to discuss my super fucked up problems with some flighty broad I barely know. Thank you, but fuck off.”

“I see,” she says before turning to Kanaya. “All this repressed homosexuality is clearly the cause of his violent outbursts.”

Slamming my hands on the table, I stand and shout, “I AM NOT A REPRESSED HOMOSEXUAL!”

The cafeteria has, unsurprisingly, gone dead silent and it takes a few seconds for this to kick its way past my fury. When it does, I grab my bookbag and dash the fuck out of there as fast my un-athletic legs will take me.

Things seriously could not get worse than this.

*

“Dave ain’t looking too hot today,” Dirk says to my mom. “It’s probably one of those 24-hour bugs but I don’t feel too keen on leaving him alone tonight.”

“But you have that big party to deejay for tonight,” my mom says, wiping her hands on a towel. “The light bill is already a month behind and if I don’t get some sleep for work in the morning...”

“I know, I know. I just never feel right leaving the little guy’s side when he’s sick.”

My mom purses her lips, conflicted. I try to creep out of the kitchen but she spies me, or more accurately, she already knew I was there and my movement caught her eye. Should’ve played dead, or actually just dropped dead which would been a neat trick to do on command. She smiles and steps away from the sink.

“Karkat can do it,” she says.

“Do what exactly?” I ask.

“Nothing more than spend the night in your brother’s room.”

“MOM I WILL NO—“

“HEY!” she shouts over me. You go quiet because your mother angry is a nightmare worse than any fucked up crush I may have. “It’s only for the one night. All you have to do is keep your brother company, that’s all. How hard is that?”

 _Pretty fucking hard_ , I think, then grimace at the double-entendre of what I just thought.

“I’ll give you ten dollars,” Dirk offers.

“Oh jeeze, well how can I say no to ten dollars?” I ask sarcastically.

Dirk smiles. “Ten dollars and your favorite ice cream.”

“Cherry Garcia?”

“Three pints.”

Well shit! How hard could it be to just sleep on the floor of Dave’s room for one night?

As it turns out, quite hard. Literally.

The floor is not kind on my back and after an hour and a half of tossing and turning on my makeshift bed of two comforters, I curse and sit up. Dirk thought it would be cute for me to have a nightlight so _‘I wouldn’t get scared of any monsters on the floor’_ , and I’m only really thankful for it because I don’t have to strain my eyes in the dark in an attempt to locate Dave on his bed. The nightlight illuminates part of his jaw and hair and I can’t help but think back to when I tried to apologize to him several months ago, how he looked like he may have fallen asleep crying or something.

Tonight his arm isn’t thrown over his face, so I can just barely see his blonde eyelashes in the glow of the nightlight. His mouth is slightly open but he’s not snoring, just breathing a little harder than usual. Pretty sure Dirk said Dave only had a stuffy nose and a mild fever, but it was weird to see Dave in such a vulnerable situation. Like how do the supposed ‘coolkids’ get sick when they seemed immune to it and pretty much everything else that happened to them? Dave was the epitome of this bullshit self-description, yet here he was snoozing away helpless to his body’s own hiccup in immunity.

Trying to lay back down only yields the same discomfort, and I’m partially considering just going to my own bed but truth be told, we weren’t rich and Cherry Garcia wasn’t an exactly cheap ice cream to buy. Hadn’t had any of it in over a year actually and now that my sweet tooth knew it was in reach – three whole fucking pints of it – it was impossible to just give it up. 

There were only two options though: One was to suck it up and stay on the floor. Two, which wasn’t my most favorite option, was to climb into bed with Dave.

Of course the problem with that aside from how extremely uncomfortable that would be for everyone is that Dave is currently a sack of gross, festering germs and I didn’t want to risk my own health just because I was uncomfortable. 

…

Yeah okay, fuck this. If I was going to do this than I should be fucking comfortable.

Dave’s bed is a full-size that was apparently his brother’s before they moved in. I asked him once what it was like laying in another dude’s old sweat and jizz. Without missing a beat, he asked if I would like to find out. Fucking weirdo. The shit part was that I was basically going to find out – note to future self: don’t ask ironic idiots disgusting questions involving future possible sleeping places.

The bed is surprisingly comfortable; the blankets warm against the winter night’s cold. I keep to the edge to avoid bumping into Dave’s germ-infested body and succeed in not awakening him. His window doesn’t have a curtain and by lying on my side, I can see Dave’s face clearly in the moonlight. How the fuck he can sleep with so much light on him I don’t know. My room is pitch black at night and if my mom didn’t bitch me at least once a week about opening my curtains during the daytime, it would be pitch black all the time unless I was doing homework or on my computer.

I’m such a creep, laying here and staring at this fuckwit. Dave coughs once and rolls to his side so he’s facing me. My whole body goes tense as I pray to all the gods of ever for him to not wake up and see me, just let me make it through this night with as minimal awkwardness as humanly possible. But fuck no, fuck me and my on-going run of shitty fucking luck. Deep crimson colored eyes crack open partway, groggy with sleep. It strikes me again how vulnerable Dave looks while sick and how weird it is to be a witness to it.

“Making your move on me when I’m sick and defenseless, huh?” he asks with a drowsy nod. “I’ll be honest, I wasn’t sure if you had it in you or not. Unless this is a fever dream and you’re not really lying next to me then hello figment-of-my-imagination Karkat, are you going to kiss me better now?”

“What the fuck goes on in that wastebucket of a head of yours, Strider?” I ask, truly dumbstruck by the crazy that just dripped out of his face.

“I take it that’s a no on the kisses?”

“I swear to fuck I’m going to smother you with your pillow and plea to the jury it was a mercy fucking killing. A mercy for me that is.”

“Then that must mean you’re the real Karkat. Got lost on your way to bed or were you hoping to cop a feel while I’m defenseless and feeling like shit?”

A part of me wants to hit him, really fucking hard just to knock some of the aggravating bullshit he says out of him. Another part of me wants to just run to the safety of my own room and pretend this night so far never happened. 

Dave closes his eyes and sniffles.

“You’re too easy to wind up, bro. Gotta learn to chill the fuck down a bit or you’re going to die at twenty-five with your dick in your hand because you drove everyone away with all of your bitching and screaming. At your funeral, Bro will have to be all, _’We always knew it would end like this for him’_ to your sobbing mom. And she’ll be all, _’I know but if only he had learned to chill the fuck out a little more often my baby would still be with me’_. Then either she’ll try to have a baby with Bro or I’ll have to take the place of her long lost son, dead before he knew what it was like to feel another man’s mouth on his dick.”

“HOLY FUCKING SHIT STRIDER. AREN’T YOU SICK AND AT DEATH’S DOOR OR SOME SHIT? LIKE HOW THE FUCK CAN YOU STILL SAY SUCH ANEURYSM INDUCING BULLSHIT!?”

The stupid fucker just smirks, his eyes still closed. “Told you, you’re too easy to wind up,” he says.

“God fucking dammit. Thank you for ruining my chances at some prime ice cream, stupid dick,” I growl, sitting up and kicking away my blanket.

I have every intention of getting up and storming out of Dave’s room, but I don’t. Mainly because Dave’s hand -- pale in the winter, red in the summer -- is gripping my wrist. His hold isn’t tight and I know if I gave it a little effort I could snatch my hand easily away from him. Looking down at him however, I find Dave is looking away from me, a small frown on his lips.

“When I was real little,” he started in a low voice, “whenever I got sick, my mom would stay the whole night with me. Bro told me one time I got the flu when I was three and he said she slept in my room for a whole week until she knew I was 100% better. Sometimes I think I still remember the smell of her from nights like that. 

“When my parents died, Bro began doing it, I guess to make me feel better because he knew how sad I was. Dunno if he only ever meant to do it more than a time or two, but by the time I was thirteen, it was just a thing he still did and we didn’t talk about it. We don’t talk about stuff like that, things that have to do with our parents.” Dave pauses, licking his lips and sniffling again. “I know I fuck with you a lot, but it means a lot to me that you did this at all.”

He lets my hand go and tucks it under his pillow. His eyes are still open but they’re glazed over slightly like he’s half-asleep. That almost makes it easier to think about getting up and leaving, but I catch sight of a tear running down his nose before he closes his eyes and buries his face quickly into his pillow. My hand, my traitorous fucking hand, reaches out and touches his hair lightly. He tenses slightly and so do I but I can’t seem to pull my hand away from him. I’ve never asked what happened to the Striders’ parents because it wasn’t any of my business but to hear Dave speak about it at all is surprising, and it makes me feel like shit for considering leaving at all.

Lying back down, I stroke Dave’s hair a few more times before pulling my hand away. He remains with his face buried in his pillow for a long while before he turns to look at me. It’s hard not to see the red around his eyes or on his nose as he grabs a tissue from the box on his nightstand and blows his nose. He lies on his back, looking up at the ceiling but doesn’t say a word to me. 

Before I can stop myself, I lean on my elbow and frown down at him until he meets my eyes. I can tell he wants to apologize but I don’t know if he really will and besides, I’m not interested in an apology. Instead I suck up some of the issues that have been plaguing me lately because of this dick and raise my hand, to touch his cheek. 

In that moment, I think I knew why Dave always wore his stupid shades all the damn time. His eyes widen, but he didn’t say a word as I leaned over him. Before my shadow cut out the moonlight, I could see just the tiniest flash of panic in his eyes. Still, he didn’t say anything. He didn’t protest or put up a fight or call me a sick fat freak.

Instead, Dave let me kiss him, and he kissed back.

Goddammit, I was going to get sick after this, wasn’t I? Stupid Dave.


End file.
